Once a month for the past year, my husband has hovered over my head like a drone, carefully pulling out the 20 or so newly sprouted silvery gray hairs dotting my otherwise deep-brunette hairline. Per my instructions, he'd snip the coarse strands into little stubs while I'd cross my fingers he didn't take out a chunk of my hair. Sure, it would be a hell of a lot easier (and more enjoyable) to walk into a salon and have a professional color my hair to get rid of my grays. But then I’d have to lose my hair-color virginity, and I’m holding on to it for dear life.

The need to keep my hair pure may seem illogical given that, for my job, I have access to some of the top hair colorists in NYC for free. But I decline them all, desperate to preserve my color because there’s something satisfying about knowing it’s all mine. I didn’t walk into a salon with a photo of Jessica Alba’s bronde balayage, and say, “Copy that!” Every piece of my hair texture and color makeup is part of my unique genetics. Also, I genuinely love my hair and I don’t want anyone to eff with it. Like you do with anyone or anything that you love, I treat it with kindness, and follow every hair rule in the book. My routine is strategic: I sleep on a silk pillowcase, wash my hair every few days with luxury products, hydrate it with expensive oils, and use heat-protectant formulas before hot tools. As a result, my hair is pretty damn healthy.

"I’m not 'letting myself go,' but rather embracing aging gracefully."

Thanks to my Jewish heritage, I also have a naturally curly texture. It air-dries in ropy, beach waves. When blown out, it melts into a silky curtain, while easily holding the bends and twists of a curling iron. The fear of disrupting with my curl pattern also keeps me from giving a colorist the green light. What if I dye it, and it becomes coarser? What if it doesn’t air dry as well?

Even before becoming a beauty editor and the grays started sprouting, I was tempted to transform my look. Like most nineties babies, I obsessed over Jennifer Aniston’s honey highlights for most of my teens. But in high school? My mother, who didn’t like her own self-described “mousy” color and therefore took pride in mine, convinced me to keep my hair untouched by bribing me with a Kate Spade bag. And so my virginity pledge began.

Last year I almost went through with it. I came to terms with the fact that asking my husband to trim the strays wasn’t the sexiest bonding activity for our first year of marriage. And the little silver buggers were starting to get on my nerves when they showed up prominently in photos regardless of his handiwork. I booked an appointment to cover the grays but ultimately punked out. Then my mind-set shifted yet again when some of my favorite celebrities convinced me to hold out.

First, at the 2018 Golden Globe Awards, Jessica Biel, 36, walked the red carpet. It was subtle, but she had a few gray streaks in the front of her updo. Then, at the Grammys, Katie Holmes (who is 39) had a few silver slivers peeking through parts of her dark hair. Neither actress commented on her hair. Nor should they have had to. (Just think about how many men throughout the years have had salt-and-pepper hair on the carpet without it being a thing. Even if it is discussed, it's called "distinguished.") But it was as if they were speaking right to me: "No, I didn’t color my hair before this award show, and I’m not going to apologize for it."

Around the same time, a pregnant 32-year-old Chrissy Teigen tweeted: “I have a skunk like streak of grey hair and I’m actually very into it. My Cruella dreams are coming true!” Women responded with enthusiasm and selfies, showing how they embrace their own gray hair. “I find new grey hairs on my head every day and I LOVE THEM,” one user wrote. “I’m only 24, so I’m not sure why they’re already here but I call them my unicorn hairs.” Another said, “I always called them my silver highlights!”

What makes this gray movement so great is that it’s not some on-trend statement that’s going viral, like the ashy, faded, Instagrammable gray hair that had a moment last year. This is about embracing what is naturally happening to thousands—actually, millions—of women and deeming it not only imperfectly acceptable but downright covetable.

OK, so yes, I realize that you have to zoom in to catch a glimpse of any of our grays. But here’s what matters: Five years ago, before acne-positive selfies had their boom and celebrities graced the covers of magazines and campaigns proudly showing their unretouched skin, applauding gray roots wasn’t expected. In fact, often it was thought of as sloppy. That is not the case in 2018, when women are leaning in closer, speaking up louder for equal pay, and coming forth about sexual harassment. Along with that, women—especially the public-facing ones—are embracing I-do-what-I-want beauty (see: Frances McDormand). And, well, sometimes that means not covering your grays before a major red-carpet appearance.

Those of us forgoing dye are not doing it because we are lazy or abandoning self-care. Slowly going gray is an act of self-love. I’m not “letting myself go,” but rather embracing aging gracefully.

“It’s this whole women’s movement—be comfortable with yourself and how you look naturally,” says celebrity hair color icon Rita Hazan, who has colored the hair of A-listers like Beyoncé and Katy Perry. “Women are doing what they want and not worrying about what people think about them.” What’s ironic is that Hazan is also the pioneer of root concealer, essentially temporary color sprays that allow women to camouflage their roots or grays between appointments. So how could she be on board, you ask? “If you feel beautiful with gray hair, then you look beautiful with gray hair,” she explains. “If you don’t, then you have to color it. You have to do what makes you feel good.” Hazan also gave me some tough love—informing me that cutting my grays down is “not going to stop them from growing—it'll just make them grow straight up.”

Even more alarming: “When you pull them out you are damaging the root,” she told me. “You might go bald there.” Her bottom line: Either live with them and love them or color them. And if you haven’t yet picked up on my point here, I’ve definitely decided on the former. I’m openly embracing my grays.

And with that, I’ve also given my husband his time back, storing my little hair scissors in the back of a drawer. When I finally lose my color virginity (I anticipate this will happen at some point, maybe once the grays completely take over, and I begin to miss my naturally sun-kissed color, but who knows), I want to do it because I’m ready for a change. Not because it’s expected that my brunette color stays silver-free. And if it makes me look a bit older, so what? That doesn’t seem to be bothering Katie Holmes or any of the empowered women who are saying “f-ck it” to being a slave to their color.

Every few weeks, I spot more silvers. Some of the strands are white, others are almost metallic, while others are coarse in texture. That’s OK. They’re all now part of my beloved, unique head of hair. And this summer, when my beach waves dry in shiny spirals showing off my true gray and honey streaks, I won’t be mad about it.

That being said, when a long white hair grew straight out of my bushy eyebrow, I took a tweezer to that thing immediately. Even I have limits.